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Gibbons’ Millions 

by 

/ 

CLARA HUNTER WILLING 


/ 


[Copyrighted 1903] 



9 


THE LIBRARY OF < 
CONGRESS, 

Two Copies Received | 

APR 6 1903 I 

Copyright Entry 

CLASS CL XXc. No. ' 

1 

J 


COPY C. 


Q -7 V (V 

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Cbis little book is lovingly dedicated 
to the friend of all others best beloved, 
Eleanor IHamilton. 






(Sibbons’ fUMUkms. 


» 


Gibbons' Millions 


PART I. 


Chapter I. 

“Say, Mr. Gibbons,” said Blossom, 
“you must be awful good.” 

“Why, what makes you think so?” 

“You are so awful homely, and Mamsy 
always tells me that homely people are 
almost always good.” 

“What does she know about it?” 

“Oh, she knows everything; and this 
morning you look homelier than ever, 
and so you must be very good indeed.” 

Gibbons laid down his paper with an 
amused smile. 

“Well, it seems to me, little one, that’s 
rather a Chinese sort of a compliment — 
and I don’t know whether to look pleased 
or not.” 

“I hope I am homely,” she went on, 
“ ’cause Mamsy always tells me to be 
good when I come over here. Am I 


7 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


homely?” she asked very seriously, turn- 
ing her lovely little face full on him, “for 
it must be nice, when you walk along the 
street, to have everybody know by your 
homely face that you’re good. I’m glad 
that Napoleon is dead!” never pausing 
between. 

“What is the matter with Napoleon?” 
asked Gibbons. 

“Oh, Mamsy was reading out of my 
new history book to-day, how Napoleon 
always picked out the tallest men with the 
biggest noses for his best soldiers. Are 
you a seven-footer? For when I asked 
her how tall they had to be, she said: 
‘Like your new friend, Mr. Gibbons.’ 
And Lena, when she was dressing me this 
morning, and you were passing by, said : 
‘Our neighbor, Mr. Gibbons, won’t be 
hung for his beauty.’ And I am so glad, 
for I don’t want you to be hung, and I 
don’t want you to be a soldier, and I 
don’t want you to be pretty.” 

“Well, what do you want me to be?” 
becoming quite interested. 

“I just only want you to be good.” She 


8 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

patted his rough cheek lovingly — all the 
while drawing her little fingers through 
his beard, and finally braiding it up into a 
braid, which made him look like a verita- 
ble billy-goat. 

“I must go now, for Mamsy is going 
to take me out for a walk.” 

“What a little midget she is!” thought 
he, getting up and going over to the look- 
ing-glass to see for himself the degree of 
his homeliness; forgetting all about how 
she had fixed him up. 

“Great Caesar’s Ghost!” said he. “I 
don’t wonder at her comment. I am 
afraid this is a case of Beauty and the 
Beast.” 


Chapter II. 

Joe Gibbons was a typical old bachelor. 
He lived all by himself, with the excep- 
tion of Pomp, his devoted slave, and his 
great dog, Captain. It was through 
Captain that he had gained this little new 
friend. 

It would seem that Captain instinctive- 
ly realized the isolation of his master, for 


9 


GIBBONS ’ MILLIONS. 

when the Boynton’s moved into Fir Cot- 
tage, over the way, and the little girl 
ventured across the lawn, he wagged his 
tail in an unusually friendly manner for 
such a serious old Captain, and when she 
advanced fearlessly onto the back porch 
and put her little arms around his big 
neck — he thumped his tail so vigorously 
that it brought old Pomp to the door — 
who exclaimed : 

“Lor a massy, Cap’n ! Never saw the 
likes o’ this before !” 

“My name’s Blossom. What’s his 
name ?” 

“Bless you, chile — he’s Captain — an’ 
you wan’ ter look out fer ’im.” 

“Oh, he won’t hurt me, he’s laughing. 
Can I sit on your porch a while, beside 
him?” 

“If Cap’n like it, guess the Marse won’t 
care.” 

With that Pomp turned back into the 
house, wondering at the gentleness of 
Captain. Every morning after this, the 
old fellow went onto the porch, waiting 
for his little new friend. 


10 


GIBBONS 1 MILLIONS , 

As their acquaintance advanced, day 
by day, they would have great romps in 
the back yard ; and one morning she 
came skipping over the lawn with a 
wreath of apple-blossoms which she and 
Lena had been weaving in the shade un- 
der the old apple tree. Old Captain, as 
docile as ever with the little lady, allowed 
her to slip it over his neck. Then she 
clapped her little hands and shouted in 
great glee — and round and round they 
chased after each other. After having fully 
made up his mind that he himself liked 
her very much — he took this chance when 
she was chasing him, to run right into his 
master’s sitting-room, and with a loud 
bark of introduction, he lay down at his 
master’s feet, with the wreath of flowers 
still dangling around his neck. 

And thus their acquaintance came 
about. 


Chapter III. 

For thirty years Gibbons had been 
absorbed in his own concern of money- 
making, giving little heed to anything 


11 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


else. His chase after the “almighty dol- 
lar” narrowing his range of vision into a 
limited perspective. He never gave 
himself time to think — or to become inter- 
ested in much outside of this one thing. 

When but fourteen years of age, he 
started out with the idea of making a 
fortune; and when he began to be pros- 
perous, he began to be ambitious. When 
he had made a thousand dollars, he want- 
ed to make it two thousand, and finally 
the notch he wished to reach was a mil- 
lion. 

“When I have a million,” he said to 
himself, “ I will take it easy. Until then, 
‘every man for himself — and the devil 
take the hindmost.’ ” 

Now that he had attained his ambition 
— the force of habit was still upon him, 
and he had not stopped long enough 
along the path of life to make any friends, 
except in a business way. But what are 
they when “comes a pause in the day’s 
occupations ?” 

Now, when he was slowing up a bit, 
and was thinking of what he had promised 


12 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


himself — he began to wonder what he 
should do with himself ; and the little 
girl’s words : “I just only want you to 
be good,” kept repeating themselves to 
him. 

“Good? Gee whiz! I haven’t taken 
time to be good to anyone for so long. I 
wouldn’t know how to begin. Guess I’ll 
have to get Blossom’s idea on the subject 
next time she comes.” 

Chapter IV. 

Whenever old Captain and Blossom 
were having their daily romp together, 
the knowing old fellow would make the 
last run end in the house near his master 
— as if he wished him to have a bit of 
Blossom’s company too. 

One afternoon they came tearing in, 
but found to their disappointment that 
the master was not in his accustomed 
place — being detained somewhat longer 
at the office. All hot and tired from their 
long run, they tumbled down on the rug 
before his armchair, and soon fell asleep, 
Blossom with her little arm about the 


13 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

old dog’s neck, and Captain with his big 
paw protectingly across her little body. 
And this was the sight which met the old 
darky’s eyes when he came into the 
room with the newspapers, which Gib- 
bons always expected to find ready when 
he came in. 

“Law sakes !” exclaimed he, “ef this 
ain’t a livin’ picter! I’m a-thinkin’ it 
would do Marse Joe good to see this, 
ef he was only heah. The flo' is a pretty 
hard piller fer the lil’ Miss. I’ll jes slip 
somethin’ under that golden head o’ 
youse, honey — an’ perhaps ef the head 
rests easy, you’ll stay heah a lil’ longer 
till Marse gits back. I gib anythin’ to 
have ’im step in jes now.” 

After a while he heard his footsteps in 
the hall, and hurrying to the door, said: 

“Come sof’lv, sah — come sof’ly, sah !” 

When he saw the smiling face of his 
old servant, he did as he was bidden ; and 
when he entered and gazed on the two, 
he thought to himself: 

“Here is Beauty and the Beast again, 
only this time the beast is a better fel- 
low.” 


14 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

Chapter V. 

“Blossom, what are you up to again — 
rumpling my hair all up in this pompa- 
dour style? Sit down there by Captain 
and tell me how I look today. Do you 
think you have improved my looks any? 
And where were you yesterday?” 

“I was naughty yesterday, and Mamsy 
gave me lines.” 

“What were the lines?” asked he. 
Without hesitation she at once began 
to recite: 

: ‘Be good, sweet maid, and let who will, be 
clever.’ ” 

“Go on — go on. What next?” 

; ‘Do noble deeds, not dream them all day 
long.’ ” 

“Mamsy must be a very bright wo- 
man,” he thought to himself. 

Not only did he discover this later — 
but he also learned that she had had the 
sole care of this child since the mother 
had been invalided by the great shock she 


15 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


received when Blossom’s father went to 
sea and was lost. Miss Marcella — Lieu- 
tenant Boynton’s sister, had taken upon 
herself the regime of the whole household. 
Blossom always called her “Mamsy,” and 
looked to her for everything. 

Blossom was so full of life that she was 
rarely still for two minutes together. No 
sooner had she finished reciting her lines, 
than she was fingering the buttons of his 
coat, and counting: 

“Rich man, poor man, beggar man, thief, 

Doctor, lawyer, merchant, chief.” 

Rich man — “Why, Mr. Gibbons,” cried 
she, “Your buttons say you are a rich 
man ! Are you a rich man?” 

Gibbons did not have to trouble himself 
to evade this direct question, for she 
went right on, saying : 

“Wish my buttons said 'rich man,’ 
’cause if I was 'rich man’ I’d buy Mater- 
mine a box of colors, so she could finish 
the picture she’s painting of Captain and 
me playing under the big apple tree ; and 
I’d have a big birthday cake, next Satur- 
day, like we used to have when we lived 


16 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

in Scranton; and this year I could have 
had ten.” 

“Ten what?” asked he. 

“Why, ten little poor children to enter- 
tain. Mater-mine always let me have as 
many little poor children as I was years 
old. When I was seven, I had seven; 
when I was eight, I had eight ; and now 
I’m ten, I could have had ten. But 
Mamsy says I must not speak about it to 
dear Mater — for she is not strong; and 
she said ‘the elephant stepped on our 
pocket-book’ — so I could not have a birth- 
day, this year. Oh, dear !” — with a long 
sigh — “and I was going to invite you and 
Captain, too, and now I can’t.” 

Chapter VI. 

“Little one,” said Gibbons, as he drew 
her upon his knee, “I have been wanting 
to ask you something, and now I must 
not forget it. Suppose that you were I, 
and wanted to be good, just as you wished 
me to be, the other day — how would you 
commence to begin?” 

“Let’s see,” said she — a thoughtful ex- 


17 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

pression coming over her bright face, “I 
heard Mamsy say we must not forget 
our old friends — when fortune smiles on 
us — and Captain’s your best friend, ain’t 
he? Seems to me I’d begin on him.” 

This provoked a hearty laugh, and 
struck Gibbons as being very cute — that 
such a little mite should think of the old 
dog first, when he had not given him a 
thought for years, beyond that he was 
always there on duty. 

Right here, Captain joined in the merri- 
ment by thumping his tail and barking 
as if he understood the drift of the conver- 
sation. 

“Yes, sir, I’d begin on Captain,” said 
she. “He is such a dear old fellow” — 
putting her arms around him and hugging 
him. “I’d get him a nice bright collar 
and a chain, and then I could lead him 
over to Mater-mine, so she could see him 
close to, and then she could finish the 
picture, and he could take long walks 
with Mamsy and me, and we’d have just 
lovely times. Wouldn’t we, Captain?” 

The old dog looked up, and all but 
talked. 


18 


GIBBONS ’ MILLIONS. 

“Pomp,” called his master, as he passed 
the door. “Why hasn’t this dog had a 
collar all these years?” 

“Dunno, sah — dunno, sah — unless it be 
old Pomp’s neglect,” taking the blame on 
himself. 

“Well, see that you have some here by 
to-morrow and we’ll let the little lady pick 
one out for Captain. Oh, yes, I’ve been 
thinking about that party, too, that you 
are not going to have, and I am going to 
miss,” said he. “Why did you always 
have poor children? Wouldn’t you 
rather have had your own little friends?” 

“Oh, Mater and Mamsy always said 
there was more real fun in this kind of a 
party, ’cause I gave them all some birth- 
day cake, and they didn’t bring me any 
presents, as the other little girls would.” 

“You are a funny little girl,” said he. 
“My mouth is watering for a piece of that 
cake — so how would it be if Captain and 
I had a birthday cake, and you came to 
help eat it? But where would we get 
just such little children as you used to 
invite?” 


19 


GIBBONS’ MILLIONS. 

She clapped her hands and cried : ‘Til 
run across and ask Mamsy. She knows.” 
And quick as a flash she was off his knee 
and across the lawn, leaving him stunned 
at the suddenness. 

Pretty soon she came flying in, waving 
a little piece of paper in the air, on which 
was written : 

“We have not been in this place long 
enough to know, but one can always find 
dear little children at the Free Kinder- 
gartens.” 

“What an ass I am. Why couldn’t 
I have thought of that myself? But I 
don’t seem to be given to thinking. I 
have it!” thought he. “I heard them 
talking, down at the office the other day, 
about Schwarz, the new caterer. He 
shall make her a birthday cake such as 
she never saw before.” And picking up 
his hat, he went down town. 

Chapter VII. 

Marcella Boynton was a great hand at 
making the best of things. In short, 
she was a regular “Mark Tapley” in dis- 


20 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS . 


position; always bright and jolly under 
adverse circumstances — and many, a time 
of late, the small pension which came to 
them was scarcely enough to make ends 
meet. She had a great sense of humor, 
and no matter how heavy her heart was 
with care, cheerfulness was her motto 
before the invalid. 

Oftentimes when she had been rum- 
maging among some old finery of former 
days, trying to make something out of 
nothing, (which she found was very airy 
material,) and failing, she would don 
some ridiculous apparel and fly down 
stairs, flinging her arms with dramatic 
gestures and quoting whatever came into 
her mind. Sometimes those profound 
words of the immortal William would 
produce the desired effect on the invalid, 
by way of a “blues” cure. 

It would have made a Sphinx laugh to 
see her wildly grabbing her rags and 
quoting : 

“To be, or not to be, that is the question: 
Whether , tis nobler in the mind, to suffer 
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune; 
Or— by opposing, end them?” 

21 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

And at this juncture, snatching up a 
paper-knife from the stand near by, she 
would make a mighty thrust at her heart, 
and fall down dead before her audience. 

And again, in her night-dress — a can- 
dle in her hand — she would personate 
Lady Macbeth ; or mounting some high- 
backed chair and leaning over, would take 
off Juliet in the balcony scene — making 
love to an imaginary Romeo below, 
quoting : 

“ ‘Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Ro- 
meo?’ ” 

and, suddenly remembering that she had 
something to attend to, would then make 
her exit with these fond words on her 
lips : 

“ * Parting is such sweet sorrow’, 

That I shall say good-night, till it be to-mor- 
row.’ ” 

Or she would carry on in some other 
ludicrous way. 

Chapter VIII. 

“Martha,” said Marcella to her sister, 
sitting on the floor beside the Chippen- 


22 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

dale sideboard, for she was about to sacri- 
fice another of the old pieces of silver — 
“Martha,” said she, striking an attitude, 
“if some old rich codger dosen’t cross my 
path pretty soon, and take a fancy to my 
exquisite Grecian beauty, the dignity of 
this family will go under, and ‘chill 
penury will freeze the current of my 

soul r 

“Marcella, Marcella, will you never be 
serious ?” 

“What is the use of putting on a dying 
duck look, making an old wrinkled hag 
of myself and spoiling my prospects for 
the time when this Prince Charming 
comes along? What can I put my claw 
on next to turn to money? I’d be a 
Midas myself if I could. This frock of 
mine is an outrage to society — and I am 
sure your gown would not bring a farth- 
ing at a Jew’s shop. Ye Gods!” cried 
she, rolling up her eyes, “do send some 
old fool here pretty soon!” 

With this she began to wield the dust- 
cloth frantically, while Martha picked up 
her brushes. Suddenly she stopped be- 


23 


GIBBONS’ MILLIONS . 


fore the table — all littered with Martha’s 
pencils, brushes and sketches. 

“Why, Martha Washington Boynton! 
Why haven’t we thought of it before? 
Here Dame Nature has endowed you with 
this wonderful talent, and you are using 
it only for your own amusement. I call 
this hiding your light under a bushel — 
and now I am going to let it shine. Throw 
up your hands, and deliver them up ! Haul 
out all the sketches you’ve got ! Here’s 
where I am really becoming a Midas, for 
I am going to turn them into money.” 

“Oh, Marcella, dear, these miserable 
little daubs of mine are not worth sel- 
ling.” 

“You just leave that to me, and when 
I walk into the art dealer’s this afternoon, 
with the test picture under my arm, and 
wearing my most captivating smile, I 
shall be so convincing, that you will see 
the little man hand out the price I shall 
ask. Now for your exhibition. Let’s 
pin them all up on the wall, and I shall 
stand off and gaze at them like a judge 
and connoisseur. I think it will be this 
one,” said she. “No, I think it ought to 
24 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS . 


be this one of that little black imp, Jack 
Frost, up in those gray bearded trees, 
snipping off with an immense pair of 
shears the last faded autumn maple leaf. 
Seems to me it would be fetching — and 
it was such an artistic little fancy of 
yours. But tell me, Martha, where is 
that last landscape you did when we were 
out in the country?” 

“I have that in the portfolio, under the 
table there.” 

“Ah, here is the gem,” said Marcella, 
holding up the loveliest bit of harvest 
scenery. “This is truly rural, and look- 
ing at it one really seems to feel the cool- 
ness of those dense, woodsy pine trees in 
the background; while the glint of the 
sun is lending its golden sheen to the 
stubble fields, and reflecting its glory up- 
on the bundles of wheat, and over all the 
August haze. This shall stand the test, 
if I am a prophet.” 

And after that afternoon at the art 
dealer’s, Martha was never without or- 
ders ; and it was this very picture which 
brought a harvest to them. 


25 


GIBBONS’ MILLIONS. 

Chapter IX. 

When Herr Schwarz was given carte 
blanche , he could produce the most won- 
derful effects. When Gibbons went out 
of the establishment, leaving His order 
for twenty plates, he chuckled to himself 
when he thought how Schwarz would 
exert himself, thinking that he was cater- 
ing to the children of the rich, when really 
twenty of the poorest little waifs of the 
earth were going to be made happy. 

“1 tell you what,” said he to himself, 
“it’s money makes the mare go.” 

As soon as the door was closed on Gib- 
bons, Herr Schwarz began to contrive 
something especially new in the way of a 
birthday cake, and favors for the little 
ones. 

When the day of the party arrived, 
Pomp was in his element — and Gibbons 
was as excited and pleased as a child, 
when he saw the preparations. 

Blossom was stationed at the door to 
receive the little folks, who were seen 
coming in a procession, headed by Miss 
Kate, the preceptress of the Kindergarten. 


26 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS . 


Each and every one was in a clean pina- 
fore, and faces were scrubbed to shining 
point. 

Just before they came, Gibbons called 
little Blossom to him, and gave her a lit- 
tle package, and told her she must put it 
in her pocket and not to look at it until 
after the party, when she went home. 

When the children were all seated at 
the table, which was a marvel of beauty — 
with exquisite flowers, bon-bons and fa- 
vors — Mamsy brought Blossom’s Mater 
in the rolling chair across the lawn, onto 
the porch, where they could peep into 
the windows while the party was in prog- 
ress. 

What a shout of ecstacy broke from 
those children when the birthday cake 
was brought on. 

Gibbons had promised himself that 
Blossom should have the biggest cake her 
little eyes had ever seen; and verily it 
was — for it must have been made in a 
cheese pan ! The frosting was all heap- 
ed up, like a great, high, white mountain 
peak ; and scattered all over the mountain 
27 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

sides, to give the appearance as if they 
were climbing up — were dozens of little 
gauzy fairies, each bearing a lighted taper. 
Little butterflies hovering on wires, and 
drawing chariots of spun sugar, full of 
the choicest confections, were the favors 
at each plate. 

And Mamsy and Mater, looking on, 
feasted their eyes on the lovely sight. 
Captain, too, was on deck, proudly walk- 
ing round and round, arrayed in his new 
collar. 

After the party was all over, and the 
little ones had all gone, Blossom ran 
home as quickly as she could — impatient 
to open the parcel, which she had been 
clutching in her little pocket all during 
the party. 

When the wrapping was removed, 
there was the cunningest little purse, 
bulging out fat with ten big, bright, shin- 
ing, silver dollars; and on the card was 
written : “The elephant shall never 

flatten Blossom’s little pocket-book while 
Joe Gibbons is in the ring.” 

Mamsy, in her impulsive way, never 


28 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

thinking that the child might make use 
of it, said : “I wish I had some one who 
liked me as much as that.” 

Gibbons had settled himself for a 
smoke, when he heard the patter of little 
feet again, and Blossom had come up be- 
hind him. 

“Oh, Mr. Gibbons,” cried she. “You 
are good! You are good! I knew you 
were good ! And Mamsy says she wishes 
she had someone who liked her as much 
as that. Oh, Mr. Gibbons, won’t you love 
her the way you do me? She is so nice.” 

Gibbons was struck with the sudden- 
ness of the proposition. It put a new 
thought into his head. 

Just then Mamsy came up to the win- 
dow, calling: “Blossom, Blossom!” for 
she had slipped away from her at bed- 
time. She came up just in time to hear 
those words — and blushed deeply when 
she heard him reply: 

“Well, well! I might not be able to 
love her in just the same way as I do you, 
my dear, but we’ll see about it.” 

And so our old bachelor had his first 


29 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS . 


lesson in goodness, which led to better 
things; and the gods were not long in 
sending Marcella’s Prince Charming. 



30 


Gibbons’ Millions, 


PART II. 


Chapter I. 

“Lor a Massy/’ came from Pomp’s lips, 
and he very nearly dropped a Sevres dish 
which he had in his hand. “Lor a 
Massy, what a knock! If that’s the lit- 
tle Miss, her knuckles will be blue.” 

He flew to the back door, and sure 
enough, it was Blossom. 

“I want my Uncle Gibbons, I want my 
Uncle Gibbons; quick, quick, too. It 
ain’t you at all that I want, Pomp, it’s 
him, for it’s done, it’s done, it’s done.” 

“What’s done?” said Pomp, trying to 
restrain her from pushing past him, and 
to silence the old dog Captain, who was 
barking uproariously, wild with excite- 
ment as the little lady. 

“The house isn’t on fire, is it?” said the 
old darky, his eyes growing big. 

“House on fire, indeed!” she sputtered 
indignantly. 


31 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

“Well, what is it, then?” 

“I tell you it’s done! The picture is 
done !” 

“I don’t know now no more than I did 
before,” quoth he. 

“Then that’s because your hair is so 
thick and woolly, it takes long to get 
through to your brain.” 

“Guess you’re right, Miss.” The old 
darky chuckled and patted her approving- 
ingly on the head, for he thought she was 
just about right, anyway, and would have 
missed her little daily visits at the back 
door. 

“No use goin’ in, honey, for Massa’s 
gone down town to see about having this 
house done made bigger. ’Taint big 
enough to hold him now that he has a 
gagement with Miss Marcella.” 

Down the steps she scampered, not 
waiting to hear any more. Out in front 
she stood peering down the street until 
her eyes blinked with the strong 
sunlight. All of a sudden she saw him 
coming in the distance, and ran to meet 
him, with Captain at her heels. 


32 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

Again it was a picture to see old Gib- 
bons, walking hand in hand with this 
beautiful little Blossom. 

It did not take Joe Gibbons long to find 
out “what was done.” It turned out to 
be that big oil-painting of Captain and 
herself playing under the old apple-tree 
in full bloom, showering its petals over 
them. 

And she was telling him all about it, 
talking fast and wild as she danced along 
by his side. When they reached the 
house, all of a sudden she surprised him 
by jumping onto another subject. 

“Can’t I call you Uncle Gibbons? Aunt 
Mamsy says you’re not my uncle, but you 
will be some day when you are married 
to her. Let’s pretend some day is now. 
I like to hear myself say Uncle Gibbons.” 

“Say it then,” said he. “I am your 
uncle from this minute.” 

“I kind of like the sound of it myself,” 
he said, as she was swinging on the gate, 
while he was looking up at the house, 
which he was remodelling. 

“Say, Mr. Gibbons — oh, no, Uncle Gib- 


33 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


bons, I mean, do you know how many 
dandelions there are on this lawn? Is 
it your lawn, our lawn, or somebody’s 
lawn? Anyhow, how many do you 
guess?” 

“I don’t know that I ever stopped to 
think. Did you count them?” 

'‘Yes, Mamsy had me do my sums in 
dandelions, this morning. She said they 
were gold dollars studding the lawn, and 
I heard her say to Mater-mine, she wished 
she had as many gold dollars as there 
were dandelions in the grass ; so I count- 
ed them, and there were two hundred and 
six, and Mamsy said there will be as many 
more to-morrow morning. How many 
will that be, I wonder. To-morrow I’ll 
have to have arithmetic again.” 

“I am glad you told me, for I was just 
going to have Jonas cut the grass, and 
that would have spoiled your dollars.” 

“And my ‘royal road of gold,’ ” she 
added. 

“What’s that? Have you been learn- 
ing some more lines? Let’s hear them.” 

“Oh, it’s only a little bit that goes like 
this : 


34 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

‘The dandelions through the meadow make a 
royal road, with seals of gold.’ ” 

“That’s very pretty,” he said. “You 
are a wonderful little miss. Well, 1 
must go in and read my paper now, and 
you can come across the lawn after sup- 
per and we will talk a little more about 
the dandelions.” 

When he turned away he thought to 
himself : 

“Little pitchers have big ears, and this 
little one pours out everything as fast as 
she hears it. But somehow I can neither 
chide her, nor prevent her from prattling, 
and I wouldn’t if I could, for she was the 
first one who roused me to anything out- 
side of myself.” 


Chapter II. 

It was in the cool of the evening, when 
the breeze is trying to stir among the 
leaves and fan the earth after the scorch 
of the burning day, and after one of those 
sudden showers, of short duration, which 
refresh everything — and when little birds 
are flying overhead, and oh ! how sweet 


35 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS . 

they sing. The myriad harmonies an- 
swer and re-echo. From tree-top to 
tree-top is heard the warble, the gush, the 
tinkle, the pipe, the peep, the thrill of 
all the songsters ! The very air is “music 
blent, one universal instrument.” 

One of these delicious showers, at the 
close of day, when it is too delightful to 
sit in-doors. Gibbons was lounging in 
a great easy chair, smoking his post- 
prandial cigar. 

Soon the “reveries of the bachelor” 
were interrupted by the soft tip-toeing 
of little feet across the porch, and little 
blossom came stealthily up behind him, 
and putting her arms around his neck, 
held a dandelion under his chin to see if 
he liked butter. 

“Ojh, it’s that little midget again !” said 
he, holding her hands, that were still 
around his neck, fast in his strong grasp, 
while she struggled and squirmed and 
squealed to get away. 

“Oh, I caught you this time, and I’ve 
got you now.” 

Seeing the yellow weed between her 
thumb and fore-finger, it reminded him of 
36 


GIBBONS 1 MILLIONS. 


the talk they were going to continue, so 
loosing his hold on her wrists, he bade her 
take the camp-chair beside him. 

“And now for those wonderful dande- 
lions we were going to talk about, ” began 
Gibbons. “Could you tell me what your 
Aunt Mamsy was going to do, if she had 
as many gold dollars as there are dande- 
lions on the lawn?” 

“No,” she said, a sudden blank com- 
ing over the bright expression of her face, 
“but I can ask her.” 

“No! No!” he said, with decided em- 
phasis. 

“Why, how you frightened me!” Blos- 
som cried, starting back. “You roar like 
a lion!” 

“Yes, I’ll roar like a whole circus if 
you do ask her. Mind you don’t, do you 
hear me, or I’ll cease to be your Uncle 
Gibbons.” 

That was enough, and she promised 
faithfully. It was now getting on to the 
little one’s bed-time, and Lena was heard 
calling her from the upstairs window. 
When Blossom jumped down from her 


37 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

chair to go, Gibbons detained her a min- 
ute. 

“By the way, are you going to have 
lessons on the lawn to-morrow and count 
your sums in gold dollars?” 

“Yap, Mamsy says I must take my lit- 
tle basket and add one after another until 
I have fifty, and then she counts them 
over to see if I have it right.” 

“Well, why don’t you go into the 
meadow behind the house? You can find 
much larger and nicer ones there, and 
who knows but the fairies have hidden 
bright gold pieces in those great big ones. 
The fairies do wonderful work over night, 
sometimes. Are you afraid of Bonny 
Bell, the cow? I’ll have Jonas pasture 
her further up.” 

“Afraid of Bonny Bell? No, I ain’t 
afraid of nothin.’ ” 

“Well, then it is decided, you are to 
have your arithmetic in the field, if it does 
not rain, and I’ll come out and keep you 
company.” 

Then the child skipped home, and Gib- 
bons arose and went into the house. 

“I wonder if I am too big to play the 
38 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


fairy,” and he chuckled to himself as he 
caught sight of his elephantine figure in 
the long pier-glass. 

Chapter III. 

Joseph Langdon Gibbons had another 
stroke of luck, and fortune smiled again 
upon him shortly after his little friend had 
left him, that evening. 

He received two dispatches concerning 
his interest in an old Mexican gold mine, 
that he never expected to get anything 
out of, although the company had been 
working at it, and he had heard occasion- 
ally from it, but nothing very encourag- 
ing. 

He was therefore more than surprised, 
when the news came, that at last they had 
struck a larger vein, which would make 
him still more enormously rich, for he 
was the biggest stock-holder in it. 

As he threw the two telegrams, which 
had brought him this piece of news, down 
on his desk, he got up and walked toward 
the safe, saying: 

“I guess I can afford to play the fairy, 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

all right, now, and I’d be an old miser if I 
didn’t.” 

He opened the safe and took out a bag, 
from which he counted fifty of the tiny 
bright coins. Then he flung himself 
down in his big arm-chair, and fell to 
thinking how he should manage to con- 
ceal them in the dandelions. It was so 
foreign to his nature, that he found it 
harder to settle it in his mind than some 
business difficulty. 

“I suppose anyone would consider me 
a madman to think of amusing a child in 
this fashion.” 

But there was method in his madness, 
for by amusing the child, he sought to lend 
a helping hand to the family across the 
lawn, for love’s sweet sake, and he could 
not come right out and offer the assistance 
he would willingly have given. 

He would have put the whole gold 
mine, that he had just heard from, at 
Miss Marcella’s disposal, if he hadn’t 
been afraid to offend. 

It was through the prattle of the child 
that he gained the knowledge of there be- 

40 


GIBBONS ’ MILLIONS. 


ing a struggle for existence at the neigh- 
boring cottage. 

Along toward midnight a heavy peal of 
thunder aroused him, and he was sur- 
prised to find that he had fallen asleep in 
his chair. When he arose to prepare for 
bed, he looked out of the window. The 
sky was dark and threatening, and did not 
argue fair weather for the morrow. 

“Pshaw !” he said, “that knocks the 
fairy scheme in the head for another day.” 

Chapter IV. 

Sure enough, the next day it rained — 
showers coming up every little while ; so 
there were no out-door lessons for Blos- 
som, but she managed between showers 
to skip across the lawn. 

She was in and out of his house about 
as much as her own. Often times she 
would play around, and« Gibbons wouldn’t 
know she was there at all. She would 
amuse herself in one way or another, with 
the dog, Captain, usually, often following 
Pomp around while he was at work, talk- 
ing to him and plying him with questions, 


41 


GIBBONS’ MILLIONS. 


many times imposing upon his good na- 
ture. But he did not mind, for he loved 
the little thing as well as did his master, 
and when he did not catch sight of her 
some time during the day, he took it upon 
himself to go to the Boynton’s back door 
and inquire if the little miss were sick ; 
and frequently he would spread a little 
table in the shade with some cookies and 
a glass of milk, some luscious berries or 
something tempting, and calling Blossom 
and her companion, Captain — who would 
sit up on a chair with a napkin around his 
neck as nice as you please — Pomp would 
install himself as waiter at the pretended 
tea party, smiling one of those broad 
smiles that revealed his white teeth. 

Because of the stormy day, Gibbons did 
not go down town, much to the satisfac- 
tion of Pomp, who was always happy 
when his master was around. He would 
find occasion to go to his sitting-room on 
one pretext or another, and elaborate on 
subjects Mr. Gibbons only touched upon, 
for he loved to be near him, and was his 
devoted slave. 

When he brought the mail that after- 

42 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

noon, his master asked him what he had 
been telling Jonas about the little Miss. 

“Why, Marse Joe,” rolling up the 
whites of his eyes, “I was just a-sayin’ 
what a pity it is thar ain’t no nice lil chil- 
len round dis neighborhood fer de blessed 
lil angel to play with, fer she expec’ old 
Pomp to frisk ’round like a young lamb. 
And I tell you, Marse Joe, dat dese old 
bones of mine is stiff with rheumatic 
rheumatiz, and I jes natchelly don’ make 
as good a play-fellow as I ort to.” 

“I haven’t heard any complaints from 
the little lady, and I know you stand high 
in her favor as a play fellow. It seems 
to me you are pretty fond of our daily vis- 
itor. Eh, Pomp?” 

“Sh’d think I was. Don’ you ’member 
how I done cleaned de path ’twixt de two 
houses six times in one blessed day, las’ 
winter, for her lil feet to come across? 
Can’t do widout her, Marse — no more nor 
you can. Dat day, de blizzard an’ I done 
had a battle to see who owned dat path, 
him or me.” 

“Who won the battle?” asked Gibbons, 
with interest. 


43 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


“Yo’ humble servant,” with a sweeping 
bow. 

Gibbons did not mar the old man’s 
pleasure in retailing his victory, by 
speaking of what he recalled at that min- 
ute — for that day came to his mind, and 
he remembered how the enemy had stolen 
a march on old Pomp, after all, and had 
closed the path shortly afterward. 

“By the way, talkin’ about the lil Miss, 
have you seen that beautifulest picter 
since it’s done, Marse Joe?” 

“Why, no, although Blossom told me 
day before yesterday that it was finished. 
I haven’t had time, and to tell the truth, it 
slipped my mind.” 

“Don’ fergit to step across and see it, 
fer it’s wonerful ! wonerful ! How old 
Pomp comes to know was dis way. While 
de folks of Fir Cottage was at dinner, I 
jes stepped up to do winder, and peeked 
in to git a right good sight of it. An’ 
Marse, if you could see old Captain, so 
nateral, he looks as if he was ready to 
bark at us. An’ dear lil Miss, you would 
think she was gwine to step right out of 
de canvas. Ah, Marse, if you could only 

44 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

see it, you would jes’ want to buy it an’ 
have it in dis heah house, whar it be- 
longs ” 

Gibbons slapped the old servant ap- 
provingly on the shoulder. 

“Pomp, old fellow, you have put an 
idea into my head. Now I know what I 
can do for the Boyntons. I’ll buy that 
picture, Pomp ! 

“It’s wuth a sight more dan dat thing 
you got hangin’ on dat wall dah.” 

“If that’s the case, I must make a point 
of going to see it before long.” 

Chapter V. 

And still the rain kept up, and Gib- 
bons was busying himself looking over 
his accounts at his desk. 

Suddenly he heard a noise in the ad- 
joining room. He thought at first it was 
the old servant, but at length he called 
out. “Is that you, Blossom?” “Yes, 
Uncle Gibbons, I’m here.” He went on 
straightening his papers, but as the noise 
still continued, he got up and tip-toeing 
across the floor, went to see what the lit- 


45 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

tie tot was up to. There she was, up 
on a chair, tugging away at a great big 
book, trying to get it down from the 
shelf, pinching her fingers, bumping her 
elbows and struggling hard not to let it 
tumble on her. 

“Why, Blossom, what are you trying 
to do?” shouted he, hurrying to rescue 
her from being hit on the head. “What 
are you up to anyhow? Do you want 
to be killed?” 

“I want to get the dickie book.” 

“The dickie book ; what under the sun 
is the dickie book? Never knew I had 
one.” 

“Why, don’t you know what the dickie 
book is ? Why, it’s that b-i-g, b-i-g book 
that has every word there is in the world 
in it.” 

“Oh, you mean the dictionary, eh!” 

“Yes,” she answered breathlessly — 
“only that is such a long word, that 
Mamsy says I can call it ‘dickie’ for short. 
Say, Uncle Gibbons, can you find words 
in it? I haven’t learned how to do that 
yet.” 


46 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


“Well, I guess I learned how once upon 
a time,” he said, with an amused smile, 
and pray, what’s the word my little girl 
is after?” It took her a long while to 
produce the word, but at length it came. 
“Orfun ’sylum” came from her lips tri- 
umphantly. 

“Orphan Asylum!” “Yes, that’s it,” 
she repeated, “Orfun ’sylum.” 

“Well, I guess I can tell the meaning 
without the assistance of Noah Webster. 
But, come, tell me first what you want to 
know for, your Uncle Gibbons is very 
anxious to learn.” 

“ ’Cause,” she began, “ ’cause, last 
night Aunt Mamsy came running down 
stairs, with her sleeves all rolled up, (we 
are cleaning house,) and you know, she 
scared Mater-mine and me too, the way 
she came flying into the room, like a 
whirlwind. Mater-mine said, ‘She is so 
funny, she always makes us laugh. Well 
she sat right down in the middle of the 
floor, and began to pound her fist up and 
down like the preacher does on Sunday. 
You know how, don’t you? Mater-mine 


47 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


had been crying, but she just couldn’t 
help laughing.” 

“Well, go on, go on,” urged Gibbons, 
“tell me what Aunt Mamsy was preach- 
ing about.” “I should like to have been 
one of the congregation,” he thought to 
himself. 

“Tell me, Uncle Gibbons, what’s a 
break and a schemed That’s what 
Mamsy was talking about.” 

“Oh, never mind that just now, go on 
with your story, I’ll tell you what they 
mean after a while.” 

“Aunt Mamsy said she had a scheme 
and she was going to make a break, and 
she said to Mater-mine, I am going to 
New York and am going to take you and 
your picture. But what will we do with 
this little sand-piper? pointing to me. 
We will just have to put her in the Orfun 
’Sylum until we come back. Then she 
grabbed me up and hugged me so tight, 
she nearly choked me. Oh, Uncle Gib- 
bons, if I can’t go along, may I come and 
stay with you?” 

“Why, certain sure — I’d like nothing 
better. But don’t you go fretting, we’ll 

48 


GIBBONS ’ MILLIONS. 


fix that all right. If it comes to it, I will 
hire somebody nice to look after you. I 
must look into all of this and see what 
this talk of New York means. The plot 
thickens,” he remarked, as he ran his fin- 
gers through his hair. 

Then he turned to the child again. 
“Run away now, little one, and think no 
more about it. Tell your auntie I will 
be over this evening to see the picture.” 

Chapter VI. 

Blossom had gone to bed and Martha 
and her sister sat in their accustomed 
places, chatting while they were doing 
the weekly mending. Talk drifted on 
until it got into deep channels. Each 
was lauding the talent and ability of the 
other. Marcella declared that she had 
none, which declaration roused the in- 
valid to argue the point, and when she 
started to talk and became animated, she 
really grew eloquent. 

“Marcella, you have told me many 
times and oft that I am an artist to my 
finger-tips, which in themselves tell the 
49 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


story, but now let me tell you, that you 
possess the greatest talent in the world — 
the ability to make others happy. There 
is nothing which affords such develop- 
ment for the soul, as this very attainment. 

“Personal magnetism is the outward 
glow of the inner fire of genuineness and 
sympathy. It illuminates the hearts and 
lives and faces of those about you. And 
this is the talent which you possess, Mar- 
cella, and have cultivated to the degree 
of perfection, and few people are geniuses 
in this line. But genius is infinite pa- 
tience and unselfishness. It is the blos- 
som on the plant of talent.” 

“Oh, Martha, Martha, cease this elo- 
quent talk of yours, and do not laud an 
ordinary quality in me that can be found 
in any ‘Madonna of the Tubs/ Any 
good-natured washer-woman may possess 
this cheerfulness which you so generously 
term — talent. But you, Martha Boyn- 
ton, possess that rare artistic talent which 
is only the ‘gift of the gods/ The world 
does homage to the individual who re- 
turns ten talents for the one given him as 
an inheritance, and I mean that the world 


50 


GIBBONS » MILLIONS . 

shall nod and beck at you yet. Look at 
the exquisite work of art that has just 
come from your fingers, and deny if you 
can that you are one of the world’s won- 
derful prodigies, and it’s a sin to allow 
such a talent to languish — so I am fully 
determined Martha, to close up the she- 
bang for a few months, and when the 
next pension comes, to take you and your 
picture away with me to New York, to 
enter it in the Academy of Arts, land you 
in the hospital to get you well, while I 
shall take Blossom and pay that long- 
promised visit to Catharine Curtis, my 
school mate, at her modest little home 
just outside of New York. Oh, what 
good times we shall have together! My 
heart glows when I think of it. And I 
shall be able to run into New York occa- 
sionally for a few cents, and keep my eye 
on the picture. If I can sell it for a good, 
round sum, so much the better. 

“But why does a tear come to your eye, 
Martha, when I picture the future to you 
in such glowing colors? Is it the thought 
of parting with the picture of your own 
little girl Blossom? Well, dearie, I don’t 
51 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


wonder. And where does my talent of 
making other people happy come in now, 
when I make such a blunder as to men- 
tion this!’” She bent over and kissed 
Martha tenderly, saying — 

“Some people haven’t any tact, and I 
am one of them.” 

Just at this juncture, Marcella heard 
the footsteps of Mr. Gibbons coming up 
the path. 

With a tornado like rush she gathered 
up the week’s mending and flung it under 
the couch to get it out of sight, and went 
to the door to meet him as serene and 
placid as if she had been sitting in the 
drawing-room awaiting his coming. 

“The picture, yes, yes, of course,” and 
throwing wide the sitting room door 
where her sister-in-law was, she said — 
“Martha will only be too glad to show it 
to you herself. I’ll run and get another 
lamp, that we may have a little more light 
on the subject.” 

While she was gone he stepped in and 
made himself agreeable to the invalid, 
talking of one thing and another until 
suddenly his eye fell upon the canvas on 
52 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

the other side of the room. He was quite 
taken back, and for a moment was speech- 
less when he beheld the large oil painting 
of Blossom and Captain, life-size. 

When Marcella came back with the oth- 
er lamp, he scrutinized the picture closely. 

It made such an impression on his mind 
that nothing which he afterwards saw 
could either equal or efface it. “I ex- 
pected to see a very nice picture, Mrs. 
Boynton, but this goes beyond all expec- 
tation. I don’t wonder that Blossom 
talked so much about it. And what are 
you thinking of doing with it, if I may in- 
quire ?” 

“Oh, Marcella has designs on it,” 
said Mrs. Boynton. Then turning to 
Marcella with a roguish twinkle, he asked 
“And what are these designs, if I may 
make so bold?” 

“Well, to make a long story short, my 
designs are to close up the ranch, take a 
fling to New York and sell it to the high- 
est bidder.” 

Gibbons burst out laughing at the way 
she said it. “You are indeed a good bus- 
53 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

iness woman and I admire your pluck, 
but — and he drawled his words out slowly 
and deliberately, putting on a serious bus- 
iness and annoyed expression, which was 
far from the way he felt — but has it ever 
occurred to you that the owner of Captain 
might offer some objection to the picture 
containing the figure of his valuable dog, 
being sold to an outsider?” Then, like 
Mark Anthony, paused for a reply, taking 
care to keep his eyes cast down, lest he 
should spoil his little game. Marcella 
was not prepared for this, and a deep 
flush suffused her face, but only for a 
moment, then she regained her compos- 
ure and with her usual good nature ana 
serenity, just dropped into a big arm 
chair, saying, “Squelched again! Ah, this 
is the 'most unkindest cut of all/ ’Tis 
but an hour ago that Martha had tears in 
her eyes because I thought of selling the 
portrait of her little girl, and now you 
hamper me about your old dog,” she said 
with a disgusted air. 

“Has it never occurred to you that the 
owner of the dog would want the first re- 
fusal of the picture,” said Gibbons. 

54 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

Marcella's brown eyes fairly danced 
with astonishment, and sensations of pure 
delight crept over Martha. 

“I shall buy the picture," he said with 
decision, and shall send to the city for a 
connoisseur to value it. And although 
I buy it, I shall not stand in the way of 
your taking it to New York and exhibit- 
ing it, that it may be the making of Mrs. 
Boynton's reputation as an artist ; and if 
you are willing, Blossom and Cap- 
tain shall adorn the walls of 7ny 
house, and my house shall be 
your house — taking Marcella’s 
hand lovingly in his own — and your house 
shall be your sister's home. But one fa- 
vor I must ask of you," walking to the 
invalid’s chair — “and that is when this 
projected trip is taken, that you leave 
Blossom with me, for I couldn’t endure 
the thought of all the inmates of Fir Cot- 
tage deserting me at once. It would be 
too lonesome." 

Joseph Gibbons stepped across the lawn 
that night, a happier man for having made 
them happy. And they were so happy 
55 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS . 

that half the night was spent in talking 
this over. 


Chapter VII. 

The happy bachelor was dying to make 
out the check for the picture, but he knew 
it would be a week or two before the 
connoisseur would arrive. “In the mean- 
time,” thought he, “these two women will 
be wanting to get themselves ready for 
the intended trip. They must have a 
hard time of it surely. There is no income 
except Col. Boynton’s small pension, as 
far as I can gather, yet they put a brave 
face on it. I wish I could advance them 
something on the picture, but that is out 
of the question, with such proud people 
as they.” 

So his thoughts reverted to the little 
child and the fairy scheme, that he had 
not yet carried out. “If I choose to let 
Blossom find a few gold pieces among 
the dandelions they can’t say anything 
against my ways of amusing the child. 
Once the money is in the house, and the 
funds are low I have no doubt it will be 


56 


GIBBONS ’ MILLIONS. 


put to use, I only wish I could make it a 
bigger amount, but if I do they will see 
through it. I must find some other way 
between now and the time to settle for 
the picture/’ 

So at the early break of day, our man of 
millions, whom one would expect still to 
be in the arms of Morpheus, might have 
been seen, in the field behind the house, 
bobbing up and down half a hundred 
times. On one side of each gold dollar 
which he took from his pocket, he had 
stuck a small wafer, then by moistening 
them, he made them stick very easily in 
the centers of the dandelions. When he 
had finished, he set Jonas to watch, that 
no boys came into the field, while he went 
into the house to take a nap until lesson 
time. Old Pomp brought his master a 
lunch because he had had such an early 
breakfast. 

When he set the tray down before him 
he said, “The lil’ Miss am in the paster, 
Marse Joe, you say I sh’d tole you when 
I seen her go out.” 

“All right, I’ll be there in a few min- 
utes to see the fun.” He was smiling to 
57 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


himself as he thought how well he had 
made the tiny gold dollars balance on the 
tops of the sturdy dandelions. At length 
Gibbons slammed the back gate behind 
him and stood in the field where he ex- 
pected to see Blossom gathering her 
bunch of flowers. 

At first he did not see her, then he spied 
her away up at the other end of the pas- 
ture lot. She had found the milking stool 
which Jones kept hidden under the hedge 
and was standing on it, fearlessly at- 
tempting to mount the cow. 

Now, if Bonnie Bell had been of a fe- 
rocious disposition like many of her bo- 
vine sisters, some disaster might have 
happened. Gibbons stood transfixed for 
a moment. He did not know anything 
about the traits of the cow, but before he 
could voice his fears or take any action to 
prevent disaster, Blossom, it seemed, had 
changed her mind and in a twinkling was 
standing in front of the cow. 

Gibbon’s feelings underwent a quick 
transition. Suddenly he was convulsed 
with laughter. Blossom had picked up a 
stick and was brandishing it at the cow 
58 


GIBBONS > MILLIONS. 


and commanding, “Lie down sir, lie down. 
If you would only mind me like Captain 
does, I could get on your back better.” 
All the time Bonnie was chewing her cud 
reflectively, which seemed only to call 
forth more remarks from the child. “Why, 
Bonnie,” she said, you are awfully impo- 
lite chewing gum right in my face. Mam- 
sy says well bred people don’t do so. 
And how you stare. Mamsy says it’s 
:ude to stare.” 

By this time Gibbons was close beside 
her and he said, “It seems to me that Bon- 
nie is having hours this morning instead 
of Blossom, lessons in deportment.” All 
this time he was wondering what the pre- 
cocious child would say when she saw the 
gold patch he had prepared. 

“Come, Blossom,” said he, directing her 
steps toward the spot, “if we are going to 
have dandelion lessons we must be about 
them, your Uncle Gibbons can’t stay out 
here much longer.” 

And soon her little fingers were busy 
picking, while Gibbons was looking on. 
He had taken care that she should not see 
the best ones first, holding her attention in 

59 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


the opposite direction, for he wanted her 
to stumble onto them unexpectedly. 

When her eyes lighted on the bright 
centre of one of the dandelions, she just 
squealed with delight, and her childish 
eagerness to grab one after another as if 
they would get away from her, more than 
repaid Gibbons for his trouble, and he 
threw back his head and laughed uproar- 
iously. But he soon put on a serious look 
when he saw how earnest the little one 
was. 

“Uncle Gibbons,” inquired she, coming 
over to his side, “do you think if I should 
take a couple of these great big ones that 
the fairies made the dollars grow in and 
put them in a bottle of water like I see 
Mamsy do with slips, that they would get 
roots and then we could put them in 
crocks and grow them in the house this 
winter?” “I shouldn’t wonder if they 
would,” answered Gibbons. He found he 
had a very bad cough just then. “Yes, 
that’s a capital idea of yours, only I think 
after you get them potted, you had better 
bring them over into my hot-bed. Jonas 
has very good luck in forcing slips and 
60 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


you can come over and gather the gold 
Dlossoms when they are in full bloom. 
It’s a wonder you don’t know a little verse 
about the dandelions this morning.” 

“Oh, I do " said Blossom, “I know one 
like this — 


“Fairy little dandelion 
Smiling on the lawn, 

Sleeping in the dewy night 
And waking with the dawn.” 

“Most appropriate, most appropriate,” 
said Gibbons forgetting to accommodate 
his vocabulary to her childish understand- 
ing. 

Blossom’s impatience to get ahead of 
him with her basket of gold dandelions 
and dollars was so apparent that he said, 
“run ahead, my pet, I know you are dying 
to show them at home, what you have 
found.” 


Chapter VIII. 

Everything had been arranged by Mar- 
cella and her hance for the stay of little 
Blossom during the few months of the 
family’s absence. Of course Lena, the 
61 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS . 

maid of all work, was to have a change 
too, for she was to devote her time entire- 
ly to the child. While a dear friend of 
the Boynton's’. Mrs. Mary Cowell, an el- 
derly lady who had been tossed about the 
world a great deal of late, and who had 
no special place of abode, had been writ- 
ten tor, and had accepted the position of 
care-taker, with the understanding that 
when the house was remodelled and they 
all came back, and Marcella had become 
the wife of our multi-millionaire, she was 
then to be installed as house keeper. 

And Mr. Gibbons sent her a check to 
come at once, so that Mrs. Boynton’s 
mind could be made easy before she went 
away, by seeing them all settled and her 
little girl left in good hands. 

Pomp was all importance helping the 
Boyntons close up the house. Gibbons, 
of course, sent a cab to the station for 
Mrs. Cowell, and Marcella and little Blos- 
som went to meet her, and Pomp sat on 
top of the box beside the driver, holding 
up his head as proud as a peacock. As 
they sped along over the cobbles, Mar- 
cella thought “What a fine thing it is to 
62 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

ride in a carriage occasionally, and when 
a person hasn’t been used to it for some 
years, that sort of lofty locomotion has an 
elevating influence on one’s sense of dig- 
nity.” And thinking of her future happi- 
ness when she should be in a position to 
do things she hoped that, unlike most peo- 
ple who attain such position, she would 
not forget to do a good turn to others, and 
that she would ever bear in mind, that 
there is always someone who would be 
the better for enjoying this same sense of 
dignity, which she was experiencing just 
then. 

When Mrs. Cowell arrived, Marcella 
and her sister were so rejoiced, and 
had so much to talk about, that they 
claimed her for a day or two. And Gib- 
tons was invited to dinner that night to 
meet their friend. 

He found Mrs. Cowell such jolly good 
company in spite of her years, that he de- 
cided at once that he was going to have 
a congenial spirit in his household, and he 
was delighted to think that she was a 
friend oi Marcella’s, and that he could of- 


63 


GIBBONS’ MILLIONS. 


fer a comfortable home to such a dear old 
lady, and he adopted her as Mother Cow- 
ell, at once. 


Chapter IX. 

It was during the few days’ stay of Mrs. 
Cowell at the Boyntons, that Mr. Fritz, 
the connoisseur, arrived at Mr. Gibbon’s 
to stay over a train to value the picture. 
The packing of it had been deferred until 
his coming, after which, the art dealer of 
the place to whom Marcelia had sold sev- 
eral of her sister’s small sketches, was to 
see *ihat it was properly shipped. Then 
it was to be sent on to New York accord- 
ing to Marcella’s plan, where it was to be 
exhibited at Tie National Gallery of Art. 
The two men went to look at it, and it did 
not take Mr. Fritz long to pronounce 
judgment upon it, and he asked Mrs. 
Boynton a few questions as to how long 
she had been at it and so forth, remarking 
that it was a very fine piece of work, to 
have been accomplished in a year’s time. 
“Many a celebrated artist has worked half 
a life t'.me before producing such a mas- 

64 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS . 


tcrpiect,’’ said he. And with that he 
picked up his hat and the two men re- 
traced their steps across the lawn. 

And as soon as Mr. Fritz took his de- 
parture, Gibbons at last had the pleasure 
of making out the check and putting it 
into a small envelope and addressing it, 
cabled Pomp to deliver it. With a great 
flourish he put it on a silver salver and 
carried it across. The Boynton’s door 
had hardly closed behind him, after hand- 
ing it in, when Marcella came flying to 
the window calling him back. 

“Pomp,” she called, “there is a mistake 
here. Your master has sent the wrong 
check. In making out others, which I 
suppose he was doing, he must have slip- 
ped the wrong one into this envelope you 
just brought. Take it back.” 

“No, no, miss, dare’s no mistake, sartin 
sure.” 

“Yes, Pomp, there is a mistake.” “Sure 
as I’m liben miss, it’s de korect amount 
in de right letta, for didn’t Massa caution 
me to bring it right over and not lay it 
down anywhere or be neglectful wid it, 
as it was the fifteen hundred dollars to 


65 


GIBBONS’ MILLIONS. 


pay for the picture. Now if dat’s what 
you found in de letta, it’s what belongs 
in dis here house.” Then Pomp disap- 
peared and Marcella turned from the win- 
dow exclaiming, “Ah, Martha, Martha! I 
can scarcely believe it myself, but this 
seems to be true. Hurrah ! things have 
taken a turn.” 

“Now my lady,” she said, squeezing 
Martha tight, “you shall not travel in a 
common day coach to New York, you 
shall have a berth in the sleeper and a few 
other comforts. And Mother Cowell, you 
need not go on binding that old skirt of 
Martha’s for I won’t let her wear it. This 
very afternoon you and I will go down 
town and visit the bargain counter, and 
if her ladyship will allow ten dollars I can 
stretch it out to cover her every need, 
with a two-penny quill to boot, for my 
hat, to make myself look a bit smart,” and 
winking at Mother Cowell she said, “that 
will be a feather in my cap, see?” 

“Oh, Mrs. Cowell, isn’t she the worst, 
a two-penny quill indeed! That is just 
like her, she never thinks of herself.” 

“Marcella, you shall not go to New 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS . 


York looking like old scratch either. 
Don’t I know that the picture would not 
have brought me a penny if it hadn’t been 
for you? Have we not been partners for 
years, you and I, struggling on together, 
shall the partnership dissolve now, when 
there is a little more capital? By no 
means, my dear Marcella, I have consum- 
mate confidence in your ability to hold 
the purse strings in the future, as well as 
in the past.” 

“Hurrah, then, Mother Cowell, we’ll be 
oft* with the money. She’ll soon sing an- 
other song when the bank is empty and 
the cashier gone.” 

Marcella’s irresistibly 'funny way of 
saying this, made Mother Cowell laugh 
so heartily that she was forced to drop 
her work in her lap. 

Just then Blossom came in crying be- 
cause she had torn a big rent in her frock 
attempting to climb the big apple tree. 
“Never mind, my pet, your aunt Mamsy 
is going to sell all the old tags to the rag- 
gety man, and since the lady of the house 
has struck a bonanza we don’t care for 
expenses.” 


67 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

Whereupon Mother Cowell again 
laughed until the tears ran down her 
cheeks, she had such a keen sense of hu- 
mor and Marcella had one of her funny- 
days. 

Blossom’s tears were soon wiped away, 
with the prospect of the new pink dress 
and white hat, with a wreath of apple 
blossoms which her aunt Mamsy promis- 
ed to take her down town to buy. 

“We must all have something on the 
strength of this good luck. So Mother 
Cowell what will you have?” “I? An 
ice cream soda,” was the ready answer ; 
for in spite of her years she was as quick 
at repartee as Marcella herself, and so 
bright and companionable that it made 
her most agreeable. 

To be sure the ice cream soda was not 
forgotten that day, nor ever afterwards. 

But Marcella’s treats in after years 
were by no means of so freezing a nature. 

Chapter X. 

The Boyntons had not been gone a 
week before boxes of exquisite flowers 
68 


GIBBONS’ MILLIONS. 


and luscious fruits found their way to 
the hospital for the invalid, while Marcel- 
la did not lack attention from Mr. Gib- 
bons. What Gibbons did not think of, the 
child often put into his head, when they 
went down town together, and she expres- 
sed a desire to buy this or that for Mater- 
mine and wanted to save her pennies to 
get something to send to her aunt Mamsy 

Blossom was a very generous and 
thoughtful child. Of course her desires 
were always more extravagant than her 
little purse would allow; but her uncle 
Gibbons was only too glad to send things 
in her name, and the arrival of the post- 
man became the special interest of the 
day for him as the weeks sped on. 

Ah, what a revolution this little mite of 
humanity had made in this austere man, 
who once had thought only of himself and 
his business. He noted the change him- 
self, in that he felt happier somehow and 
when he came home, Mother Cowell, who 
f'tted so snugly in her nook in his house, 
giving an air and a touch to things that 
only a woman can give, made him feel 
that he was having a taste of home life. 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


He had led such a lonely, solitary exis- 
tence heretofore, with only faithful Pomp 
to look after him, that when the child 
came across his path teaching him to find 

Tongues in trees, 

Books in the running brooks, 

Sermons in stones, 

And good in everything, 

there was a complete metamorphosis in 
him, and knowing that little Blossom 
looked for his home coming and having 
the responsibility of the little one, gave 
him a sense of importance in the world 
unlike that usually felt by a man of mil- 
lions. 

He would spend hour after hour with 
the little girl, never seeming to tire, and 
since Pomp had taught the little miss to 
ride the tiny bicycle her Uncle Gibbons 
had bought to amuse and keep her from 
getting lonesome, they would take fre- 
quent spins together and thus the summer 
passed away. The carpenters were making 
rapid progress in the remodelling of the 
house, and Gibbons was determined that 
it should be completed in every detail by 
70 


GIBBONS ’ MILLIONS. 


Thanksgiving time, when he was to go 
on to New York and bring back his 
bride. No one would have known the 
old place, it was so changed and modern- 
ized. Gibbons was busy consulting the 
draper and the furnisher and he could 
scarcely contain himself, when he 
thought of the great surprise the house 
would be to the two whom he had kept 
in ignorance of all that had been going 
on for months. 

He had provided every comfort and 
convenience, and the house was elegantly 
appointed. He had even built a studio 
for Martha and was fitting that up. 
And what he knew would please Mar- 
cella most, was the handsome victoria and 
the fine cobs that were stamping in the 
newly built barn. 


Chapter XI. 

The month had flown rapidly, and it 
was now a week before Christmas. 

Gibbons sat in the library reading, 
while his wife and Martha were looking 
71 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


over the new magazines which Pomp had 
just brought in. 

Mother Cowell sat embroidering and 
Blossom was having a candy pull in the 
kitchen with Lena, to the delight of old 
Captain, who got lots of it. 

Gibbons dropped his paper, looked up 
as if something had just struck him. 
“Marcella,” said he, “you know that it 
has just dawned upon me that I have 
been guilty of an oversight/’ 

She crossed over to his side, saying, 
“And what can that be Joe, I am anxious 
to hear.” 

“You see,” he began, “I prepared a sur- 
prise for you in rebuilding the house, and 
having everything as I knew you had not 
expected to find it, and Martha I pleased 
with the studio, while I entirely forgot 
to give Blossom even a birthday party 
like last year. I wonder if Blossom re- 
members the big cake? I feel quite 
ashamed of myself. What I am thinking 
of is to give her a good, big Christmas 
party. Are you in for it, Marcella?” 

“To be sure, I am always ready for a 
72 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

lark. I like nothing better than to have 
something on the tapis.” 

“But,” continued Gibbons, “she is such 
a funny little, old-fashioned miss, she 
never seems to care to invite her own little 
friends that she has gotten acquainted 
with. I shouldn’t be surprised if she 
wanted to invite children of the Home 
for the Friendless and the Orphan 
Asylum, since she wanted me to explain 
the meaning of the word, ‘Orphan Asy- 
lum.’ And while explaining, we had 
walked in the direction of the institution, 
and I took her in to see for herself, and 
the object lesson was not a bad thing for 
me either. I would not mind myself if 
she did want these children.” 

“Why not suggest to her, then,” said 
Marcella. “She can have her own little 
friends any day in the week, but a party 
that I am picturing in my mind at this 
moment for the poor children who will 
probably not see much of Christmas, will 
be just glorious. Let’s call her in and 
see her little face light up, when we tell 
her she is to have a Christmas party, for 
the poor children again.” Then he step- 
73 


GIBBONS’ MILLIONS . 


ped to the library door, calling, “Blossom, 
Blossom.” 

“Joe, if you don’t conceal the happy 
smile that is lurking beneath your 
moustache before Blossom comes in, I 
am afraid she will no longer accuse you 
of being good — for it was only the other 
day that you told me that the child once 
made the remark that you must be awful- 
ly good because you were so dreadfully 
homely.” 

“According to that, I must have hand- 
somed some, eh ? Hush — hush ! here she 
comes,” and he put on a face as serious 
as mathematics. 

Blossom was so excited over the an- 
nouncement of a Christmas party that she 
did not want to go to bed, but her 
Mamsy’s word was law, and she trotted 
off up stairs after Lena. 

“Never mind, little one,” said Gibbons, 
“go to bed like a good girl and we will 
plan the party for you, and to-morrow is 
another day. You and I will go down 
town, invite the children, engage the hall, 
and visit Herr Schwartz. He is the man 
to get the thing up in good shape.” 

74 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS . 


“Joe,” said Marcella, “suppose we have 
it the night before Christmas, when all 
children are looking for Santa Claus.” 

“Excellent thought of yours, excellent. 
That is just the day we will have it. 
December twenty-fourth, from five to 
eight, will be a good time for little folks, 
don’t you think so? I think we can 
count on about one hundred and fifty. 
Why this long sigh? Is this party 
going to be too much for you, my dear? 
We’ll give it up at once.” 

“Oh, no, no. I am revelling in the 
thought of it, I was thinking of some- 
thing I wanted to do, but when you men- 
tioned the large number of children, it 
seemed an extravagant notion of mine, 
and there was no use thinking about it. 
Qf course only about one-half that num- 
ber will be girls, don’t you think, and 
boys are more easily provided for.” 

“How much will this extravagant no- 
tion cost, let’s hear it?” asked Gibbons. 
“No less than five hundred dollars, I am 
sure, would cover the expense of a new 
suit for each boy, and a worsted dress and 
a ribbon sash to delight the childish heart 
75 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS . 


of each little girl. I don’t suppose they 
would have suitable frocks to come in, 
and I remember of what importance I felt 
myself as a youngster when I had on a 
new frock and saw a ribbon fluttering 
behind me.” 

“Well, dear Marcella, if five hundred 
dollars will make a hundred and fifty-one 
hearts glad, the hearts of the children and 
your own, Joe Gibbons is not the man to 
begrudge it. I have not had much op- 
portunity in my life to give myself this 
kind of pleasure, or rather, I may have 
had the opportunity but knew nothing of 
the pleasure derived from making others 
happy, and therefore did not embrace the 
opportunity. It is only since that dear 
little Blossom put me on to it, that I have 
found the secret of true happiness. 

Chapter XII. 

The 24th of December arrived, and lit- 
tle Blossom could hardly wait until the 
hour of five approached. Mamsy had 
dressed her in a dainty pink merino dress 
which she had had made for her, like 
76 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

those in which the other children were 
to appear. This was done so as to create 
no jealousy. Every member of Gibbons’ 
household was enlisted to help with the 
party. 

Pomp, dressed in his new grey suit, in 
which he felt very fine, stood at the lower 
entry and assisted the children to alight, 
and brushed the snow from their clothes 
when they arrived in the large sleighs. 
A little farther on they were met by Lena 
and several others, who took their wraps. 
Then they were put onto the elevator. 
When they reached the upper floor they 
were taken care of by Mrs. Boynton and 
Mrs. Cowell. Already strains of jolly 
music reached their ears. Gibbons had 
engaged the band to play all the nursery 
rhymes, familiar to the little folks. 

Blossom, Marcella and Gibbons stood 
at the door of the large hall and gathered 
them in. Their eyes sparkled when they 
spied the big Christmas tree in the centre 
of the hall, lighted by electric jets. Such 
a big tree, and the way it was decorated ! 
Gibbons, himself, was proud of it. 

77 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

The hall of “The Welcome Guest” had 
never been so handsomely dressed. The 
illuminated holly bells each rimmed by a 
band of pale green light, while the ton- 
gues of the bells were fiery red jets, were 
strung on festoons of red ribbon, which 
stood out against the background of 
green drapery, and the walls were banked 
with pine trees. 

When Santa Claus appeared on the 
scene, it looked as if he were in a forest 
and had picked out one of the largest 
trees to trim for Christmas. 

Gibbons had had an artificial chimney 
built, through which jolly old Saint 
Nicholas entered, and beside the chimney 
piece hung a stocking for each of the lit- 
tle orphans. 

What laughing and shouting from the 
little ones when Santa frisked about, and 
what happy faces, when at length he dis- 
tributed the stockings. The crowning 
feature of the refreshments was the 
unique plum pudding which Herr 
Schwartz contrived. When it came on 
Santa Claus sang, “Little Jack Horner,” 
■etc., accompanied by the band. 

78 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 

The pudding did not consist of the 
usual concoction with brandy sauce, that 
would be harmful to young children. 
Oh, no — but of yellow corn meal, put in- 
to pudding dishes in which were hidden 
dozens of dainty favors. Each pudding 
being frostd over the top to look like the 
real thing, and trimmed round about with 
holly. The plums, which the children 
discovered, were carried home as a 
souvenir of Blossom’s Christmas party. 

Chapter XIII. 

Martha had regained her health, and 
was happy in her studio, executing the 
many works that had come to her through 
the displaying of the picture, “Playmates” 
in New York. It had made her renown- 
ed as an artist, and now hung on the 
library wall of the new home. 

Marcella and Gibbons went on doing 
good together, each with the help of the 
other, intending, as Gibbons expressed it, 
to carry out the words he had learned 
from his little friend Blossom, the first 
day of their acquaintance, when the child 
79 


GIBBONS' MILLIONS. 


repeated these lines of Charles Kingsley’s : 
“Do noble deeds, not dream them all day 


long. 1 


So Gibbons and his wife continued 
to do noble deeds, hoping thus to make 
Life, death and that vast forever, 

One grand, sweet song. 

And thus again were the old words 
verified — “A little child shall lead them,” 
and Gibbons’ millions were put to the 
Master’s use. 



80 


Cbe Hrttet’0 Cat. 






rn artist's Cat. 


Melva Maston, a well-known animal 
painter, sat in her studio, hard at work 
upon the canvas before her. Seven-toes 
lay purring contentedly at her feet. 
Seven-toes had been in good care while 
his owner had been abroad, but now his 
very purr seemed expressive of home — 
home, sweet home. 

The artist’s own feelings seemed to re- 
spond to the cat’s, as she put down her 
palette and brush and picked him up. 

“Seven-toes,” said she, as she stroked 
his soft Angora fur, “I don’t know how it 
is, but you seem to be my inspiration. 
All the time I tarried at the French 
Atelier, I kept thinking of you. Method 
and technique are nothing to me com- 
pared with your purr. I have turned 
out more work to-day, and am better sat- 
isfied with it, than with all I accomplished 


83 


THE ARTISTS CAT. 


during the many months of life, lived in 
the Mecca of true art.” 

And so Seven-toes was carried to and 
fro, being as much at home at the studio 
as at 349 Oriol Avenue. The remark 
was often made, that Miss Maston went 
about with her cat tucked under her arm 
for effect. The eccentric artist, don't 
you know! 

But little did people ken of what im- 
portance her feline friend was to her pro- 
fession. And little did Melva Maston 
care, and she did not take the trouble 
to explain. 

Be that as it may. Perhaps it did add 
to her popularity, unintentionally. 

After resting awhile she arose, turned 
her canvas to the wall, drew down the 
shades, locked things away more securely 
than usual, donned her hat and coat, 
picked up Seven-toes, put him under her 
arm like a bundle, closed the door behind 
her and turned the key in the lock. 

“Ah, yes, I must not forget to tack up 
the notice of my absence for two weeks.” 

And gathering her skirts about her, she 


84 


THE ARTIST'S CAT. 

ran down the long flight of stairs, for the 
reason that Seven-toes did not like the 
descent in the elevator, and would set up 
such a caterwaul, as to bring everyone 
running to the spot, by his pitiful wail, 
which sounded like someone in pain. 

He had created such a sensation, so 
many times, that the artist determined to 
walk down in the future. 

Being an animal painter, Melva Mas- 
ton had less opportunity to study her 
subjects in the heart of the city, than she 
could wish, so she often took a run down 
to the suburbs, or better still, into the 
country, taking a room at the Bloomfield’s 
where she could see all she wanted of ani- 
mal life, visit the stables and ramble in the 
pastures. 

Her greatest delight was to see cows, 
horses and sheep grouped in the beautiful 
green fields; and often, perched upon a 
rail fence, she would make rapid sketches 
that were of great value to her, and which 
she afterward worked up at her studio 
from memory. 

While her art was benefitted during 


85 


THE ARTIST'S CAT 


her yearly fortnight at the Bloomfield’s, 
she also gained in health, and nature 
painted her cheek with a daily coat of 
tan. 

It was on one of these outings that she 
was bent when she hailed the east-bound 
car. 

“They will not expect us home to-night. 
Seven-toes, and you will have to do with- 
out your hamper, and put up with Mrs. 
Bloomfield’s box bed ; but the quantity of 
milk you can have at the farm, and the 
mice you can catch in the granary, will 
make up for it. Eh, Puss?” giving him a 
fond squeeze, in answer to which he pur- 
red appreciatively. 

The artist had not been at the farm a 
week, when one day, while very much 
interested in examining the face of a very 
fine horse which she was desirous of using 
in one of her paintings, Seven-toes stole 
a march on her, being seized with qualms 
of homesickness, and remembering sud- 
denly “the house where he was born.” 

He ran along the country road easily 
enough, without being molfested, until 
he reached town and the more frequented 
86 


THE ARTIS 7 ’5 CAT 


streets, when the rush of vehicles impeded 
his progress, and the noise bewildered 
him more than once. But worst of all — 
poor, tired Seven-toes encountered a dog, 
and then his troubles began. His eyes 
gleamed and his tail swelled as the dog 
rushed at him. 

Seven-toes stood his ground, while the 
barking canine careered about him, and 
was so intent upon watching his chance 
to spring and get a scratch at his eyes, 
that he failed to get out of the way of an 
automobile which ran him down. 

As the wheel went over his hind leg, 
Seven-toes set up a wail that rose high 
and loud above the noise of the traffic. 
The pompous Percival Attwater, who had 
imbibed more freely than usual, before 
leaving the club, was just coming down 
the steps when the vehicle passed over 
Seven-toes. 

He had been so annoyed by a couple 
of cats under his window, the night before, 
that he had fired his monogram clothes- 
brush and one of his patent leather shoes, 
to say nothing of the fine water-pitcher 
he broke, in his attempt to douse them, 
87 


THE ARTIST'S CAT 

and he was just angry enough to vent his 
wrath on the first one of the offending 
felines he chanced to see, so he deliberate- 
ately walked into the road, and gave the 
cat a kick. 

“Confound the beast, anyway,” he 
muttered. “It’s a pity the thing didn’t 
go over its neck.” 

“Ah, sir, you surely would not kick a 
poor wounded cat?” said a voice behind 
him, and looking up, he saw a young miss 
coming toward him from the opposite 
side of the street. 

His face flamed with anger at being 
dictated to by this chit of a school-girl, 
who declared that if he did not desist, she 
would report him, as her father was Pres- 
ident of the Society for the Prevention of 
Cruelty to Animals. 

“I don’t care a continental who your 
father is,” raising his foot to strike out 
again, just at the instant when, all un- 
suspicious of his intention of repeating 
the cruelty, the young miss stooped over 
poor pussy to see how badly he was hurt, 
and consequently received the blow in her 
side. Of course she fainted. In a mo- 


88 


THE ARTIST'S CAT. 

ment the street was in a commotion, 
while Seven-toes was moaning mourn- 
fully. 

The street urchins were yelling in a 
terrifying fashion : “Fight ! Murder ! 
Police!” and in less time than it takes to 
tell, the cat, the young lady and Percival 
Attwater were hemmed in a crowd, while 
a portly policeman, out of breath, com- 
manded the people to make way, and 
someone ’phoned for the ambulance, 
which came flying, while the officer laid 
the hand of the law on Attwater’s 
shoulder. 

Explanations were soon made, the 
crowd dispersed and the young lady car- 
ried into a house near by, and the ambu- 
lance dismissed. A plucky little news- 
boy, who supposed the cat belonged to the 
young lady, picked him up and carried 
him into the same house, and Seven-toes’ 
injuries were attended to as soon as Alice 
Norton revived and requested it. 

How Attwater settled the matter can 
better be imagined than expressed. It 
took both time and money. 


THE ARTIST’S CAT 


This cat episode was written up in the 
“Evening Times,” and so it happened that 
the artist was not long in finding the 
whereabouts of her valuable cat, which 
was identified as her own by the little 
seven toes on one of his fore paws. And 
the one who befriended Seven-toes found 
a friend in the celebrated Melva Maston, 
when afterwards she pursued an artist’s 


life. 



90 


a Spring ifanc^. 


* 



21 Spring fancy. 


Mother Nature was bowed and bent 
with age. Her cares were very numer- 
ous, for she had such a large family. 
Just as other old ladies have on hand 
patchwork or knitting, so she was busy- 
ing herself, assorting a lap full of buds, 
sprouts and bulbs, while rocking the tree- 
cradle and humming a lullaby to the 
backward buds. 

Mother Nature kept peering out into 
the East, for she was very much worried 
about her youngest child, April, who sat 
at her knee. She was so pale and fragile 
— timid and fretful; in fact, she was hys- 
terical and did not know whether to 
laugh or to cry. Mother Nature had 
children of all dispositions and tempera- 
ments, but they were all stronger than lit- 
tle April. 

There was sweet May and Charming 
June, hot-tempered July and little brother 


A SPRING FANCY. 


August. Then there were the more even- 
tempered ones, September and October. 

Mother Earth’s two oldest boys were 
quite renowned. Her eldest son, Sol, had 
made a brilliant career and was known 
all over the world. He was her greatest 
comfort. He had been away all winter, 
and she was anxiously looking for his re- 
turn. She wanted to consult him about 
little April, for big brother Sol had always 
such a good influence on the little girl. 

He would take her in his arms, and 
smiling down on her would exhort her 
with the words : 

"Come, little April, you had better by half, 
Dry all your tears and give us a laugh.” 

And Mother Earth thought perhaps the 
little one was lonely for him. To be sure 
she had her other brother, Boreas, at 
home all winter long, and he is gentleness 
itself in his quieter moods, as we all know. 
For who has a gentler touch or a more 
soothing way, than the soft breeze in 
summer, when it caresses our brows and 
fans our cheeks, but of late he had had 


94 


A SPRING FANCY . 


a fit of temper, and when Boreas got mad, 
he was no respector of persons or things. 
He would bang doors, slam windows, tear 
off people’s hats, uproot gray-bearded 
trees, chase clouds — in fact, demolish ev- 
erything in his way — and scare the world 
generally. 

Strange, thought Mother Earth, how 
the best of my children, like the children 
of men, have fits of temper. Even dear 
old Sol gets pretty hot sometimes. But 
they come naturally by it, for Father 
Neptune, though as calm and placid as a 
mirror, at times rages and storms about 
until he foams at the mouth and wrecks 
everything in his way — and I, myself, of- 
ten make the earth quake. 

But if it were not for this very contrast 
of moods, how monotonous the earth, sky 
and sea, and all my children would be. 
When rough men are gentle, how great 
their gentleness; and when the elements, 
which war with each other, are at peace, 
how divine that calm and how we love it. 

As Mother Earth was thus moralizing, 
her son Sol burst in upon her in all his 


95 


A SPRING FANCY. 


glory, embracing her until he warmed her 
very heart, took little April in his arms, 
kissed her tears away, and from that 
moment she grew strong and beautiful. 
And when we see her now in her new 
spring dress and flower hat, we hardly 
remember her as the same “little April, 
timid and shy, who doesn’t know whether 
to laugh or to cry.” 



96 


a few pages of tbts boob bave 
been bevoteb to “E Sftetcb in JSlacft 
ant> Wbite,” bp anna Glover M(l= 
ling, anb “faffin’ in Gburcb,” bp 
ZlDarp aiben Milling. 













a Sketch in Black ant) White. 




a Sketch fit Slack and Mbit*. 


“I ain't goin’ to stand it no mo’,” cried 
little Jimmie angrily, as he stamped his 
foot when he entered the cabin door. 

“Laws sakes, honey, you bang dat door 
so hard you nearly made Susan Jane 
Maud Matilda drop de sass pan. She 
won’t be a cornin’ ovah heah no mo’ to 
help Granny, if you don’t quit frightenin’ 
de wits outen her. What’s de mattah, 
anyhow? I do believe you is a-cryin’ 
too. Shu’ nuff,” as she spied the tears 
rolling down little Jimmie’s cheek. 

Without answering, he laid his woolly 
head in her old apron, and sobbed again, 
the words coming in jerks, “I ain’t a-goin’ 
to stan’ it no mo’.” 

“Now, James Lucifer Johnson, I’se 
right glad to see you hev got some spunk 
in yer. I dunno what it is yer ain’t 
a-goin’ to stan’, but yer jes’ go an’ git 
some mo’ wood, an’ pile on de fire, an’ 
we-uns ’ll have somethin’ ter eat. Granny 


101 


A SKETCH IN BLACK AND WHITE . 


hab made yer a nice hoe-cake. An’ you, 
Susan Maud Matilda Brown, can go 
home now, an’ tell yer ma, Fse much 
obleeged fer yer help while I’se got dis 
drefful rheumatics spell on me.” 

Granny Johnson was very anxious to 
get rid of Susan Jane, and give her eyes 
and ears to her little Jimmie’s tale of woe. 
After Susan Jane had disappeared, and 
the door was bolted behind her, and they 
had made sure she wasn’t listening at the 
key-hole, Jimmie blurted out: “You 
would git me one, wouldn’t yer, Granny, 
ef yer wasn’t sick ?” 

“Bless yer heart, my pickaninny, 

Yer de apple of mah eye. 

Fse gwine ter git yer all yer want, 

Ef yer wait t’wel bye an’ bye.” 

— but yer ain’t tole me what it is all 
about.” 

“Well, it’s jes’ dis way, Granny. Dat 
Tom Anderson an’ all de res’ ob de boys, 
dey gits up on de hill, when dey sees me 
a-comin’, an’ dey holler at me coz I ain’t 
got no overcoat, an’ dey plaigs me coz I 
ain’t got no warm clothes an’ only one 

102 


A SKETCH IN BLACK AND WHITE. 


mitten. I wasn’t gwine to tell ’em dat 
you was knittin’ me de other one, an’ 
didn’t hev it done, coz I knowed youse 
han’s was akin’ so hard you couldn’t; an’ 
after school dey pelted me an’ hollered 
after me: ‘Coon, coon, coon, don’ yer 
wish yer colah would change, an’ why 
don’t yer hev yer hair cut straight.’ ” 

“An’ so it’s Tom Anderson dat’s de 
ring-leader, am it?” and Granny Johnsing 
sat thinking and shaking her turbaned 
head . It’s Tom Anderson, am it?” she 
repeated. “De Anderson’s am quality, 
dey’s plush, an’ yer Granny used to work 
fer ’em, an’ knows ’em away back ter de 
begin of de family tree. Ise suah it am 
pure mischief in Marse Tom. I’ll tell 
yer what to do to-morrow, when yer go 
to skule. You’ll hev yer other mitten 
den, an’ yer won’t be col’ on de other 
han’, not ef I has to set up untwel day- 
light. No mattah ef dese ole’ han’s ob 
mine does hurt. An’ I’ll git you a coat 
as soon as I kin git a right smart of work 
to do. 


103 


A SKETCH IN BLACK AND WHITE . 

“Bless yer heart, my pickaninny, 

Yer de apple of mah eye. 

I’se gwine ter git yer all yer want, 

Ef yer wait t’wel bye an’ bye.” 

Precious lamb, it’s time fer youse to be 
in bed, now, an’ don’ fergit, when yer 
draps on yer knees, to ask de Lord to 
make Tom Anderson let yer alone.” 

The next day Granny proudly fitted the 
mitten on his hand, and while doing so 
told him what to tell Tom Anderson. 

“Min’ yer tell him when yer git him 
alone, an’ don’ let t’other boys hear.” 

Jimmie went to school in high spirits, 
feeling very big, with Granny’s commis- 
sion, jumping over snow-drifts and slid- 
ing on icy ponds, always running to keep 
himself warm in his thin clothes. 

As he neared the hill, the usual chorus 
greeted him, and when the boys spied the 
new red mitten, which was brighter than 
the other, they had something more to 
tease him with, and one and all joined in 
calling: “Look at Jimmie. He has 

found his other mitten — thinks he is 
warm.” 

Jimmie only grinned, for he felt of 


104 


A SKETCH IN BLACK AND WHITE. 

great importance. Didn’t he have a sec- 
ret, and didn’t his Granny tell him not to 
mind? As the boys were going into the 
school-house, Jimmie found his chance. 
Tom wondered what the secret could be. 

After school was out, the boys nearly 
tumbled over each other in their haste 
to get ahead and corner Jimmie; but 
when the ring-leader was missing, they 
did not know what to make of it. Tom 
had stepped out before them, and had 
stolen away with Jimmie. 

Breathlessly Jimmie told him how 
Granny was sick and couldn’t get him the 
overcoat nor any warm clothes until she 
was able to go out to work again. “It’s 
a secret,” he said, glowing with pleasure, 
“an’ don’t yer tell the boys. Yer can 
tell yer ma, Granny said.” 

And Granny Johnson knew what she 
was saying, when she said he could tell 
his ma. And Tom Anderson did tell 
his ma. 

When Tom looked at the smiling face 
of the little darky, he took hold of the 
black hand and said, “All right, I’ll not 
tell the boys.” 


105 


A SKETCH IN BLACK AND WHITE. 


At this moment they caught sight of 
little Jimmie. “There he is,” they shout- 
ed, and were ready to begin. 

“Hold your tongues,” cried Tom. 
“Stand back and let Jimmie Johnsing pass. 
Don’t you dare to touch or yell at him.” 
And Jimmie passed the enemy for the 
first time unmolested. 

That evening there was a knock at the 
old cabin door, and when Jimmie went to 
open it, he found a heavy basket of pro- 
visions, a warm overcoat and other things 
for himself. 

When Granny Johnson held up the 
overcoat, she smiled down on Jimmie tri- 
umphantly, saying once again : 

“Bless yer heart, my pickaninny, 

Yer de apple of mah eye. 

Didn’t I tell youse I’d get yer all yer want 
Ef yer wait t’wel bye an’ bye.” 


106 


Uaffin' in Cburcb. 




































% 




































Saffin’ in Cburcb, 


BY M. A. W. 


I don’t know how it happens that I al- 
ways laff in church, 

I try to think of sorrowful things an’ of 
the rods of birch 

That’s standin’ ’hind the kitchen door 
awaitin’ like fer me, 

When I do things I hadn’t ought, like 
laffin’ in church, you see. 

Somethin’ always happens to make me 
want to grin, 

The parson sez I’m bad and lead the 
children on to sin, 

The grown-up folks don’t seem to see 
the things that make me laff, 

An’ I don’t mean to you can bet, no 
more’n our new calf. 


109 


LAFFIN ’ IN CHURCH . 

I put my han’kch’if in my mouth to keep 
the giggle down, 

An’ then my maw she looks at me, an’ 
then I turn aroun’. 

An’ all the other boys and girls is laffin’ 
with their eyes 

An’ settin’ jes’ as stiff an’ straight, an' 
lookin’ jes’ as wise. 

Same as if they understood all that the 
parson said, 

Well, if they do, then I must be a awful 
dunderhead. 

You see I never kin make out jes’ what 
he’s gettin’ at, 

An’ mos’ the time it seems to me he’s 
talkin’ through his hat. 

If Parson Johnson doesn’t want us boys 
to grin’ an’ laff, 

Why does he pound the pulpit so, an’ 
knock it over half? 

Some day it will go over an’ he’ll land 
right on his nose, 

My sakes, won’t there be fun then ! 
more’n twenty shows. 

no 


LAFFIN' IN CHURCH. 

He makes up faces an’ he blows his nose 
with such a roar, 

He wakes old Deacon Peters in the mid- 
dle of a snore. 

An’ then the Deacon sets up straight, an’ 
tries to look as tho’ 

He never thought of goin’ to sleep, or 
snorin ; Oh my, no ! 

An’ then the choir makes me laff, they 
yell an’ holler so, 

An’ git so red an’ work so hard, it seems 
to me as tho’ 

They’re tryin’ to see which one of ’em 
kin make the biggest noise, 

An’ how they ’spec we’re goin’ to keep 
our faces straight, us boys? 

Miss Sairy Jones, she laces so, that’s 
what my sisters say, 

An’ sings so high an’ awful loud, she'll 
hurt herself some day. 

An’ old Jim Brown he sings so deep, 
away down in the cellar, 

He’s fat an’ round with a double chin’ 
he’s an’ awful funny feller. 


ill 


LAFFIN ’ IN CHURCH. 

He puffs an’ blows an’ bellers so, an’ gits 
so awful hot, 

He’s jes’ the very picture of the old bull 
in our lot. 

He likes Miss Sairy too, you bet, he 
makes soft eyes at her, 

An’ she gits red as she can git, what does 
she like him fer? 

An’ oh, there’s lots of more things, that 
are jes’ awful funny, 

I couldn’t keep from laffin’ if you was 
to give me money. 

An’ jes’ the times I hadn’t ought, them’s 
jes’ the times I must, 

Seems that if I didn’t laff, why I’d jes’ 
have to bust. 


112 






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